Nothing was ever
So hopeless as the love we
Pretended to share
That fortress in ruins stood once tall and proud,
Its huge gates flung open to welcome a crowd
Which never arrived. But the baron inside
Still waited the rest of the day.
The gates had been opened when news of the throng
(Which gathered in joy at the next fort along)
Arrived in the morning – a reasonable warning –
So where were the visitors now?
The morning went by, then the day, then the night.
The days stretched to weeks, and there still was no sight
Of any of those whom the baron supposed
Would care to share in his riches.
His smile long since faded, his expression grim,
The baron decided to let no-one in.
The gates were then slammed; “The people be damned!”
And the fortress was slowly forgotten.
But many years later a traveller saw
The fort from the roadside, and chose to explore.
“I’m in need of a bed,” the traveller said,
And the doors very slowly cracked open.
For seven long years she was gaining his trust,
For three of those years they both sated their lust
Which slowly would grow into love, and he’d show
Her the treasure he guarded so fiercely.
The treasure shone golden and glinted with red,
Pulsating so softly; the baron had said
That it was alive – it glowed from inside
And the traveller smiled as she held it.
But one day in turmoil the baron awoke
His fortress on fire, the room filled with smoke.
His treasure was smashed, and he realised at last
That the traveller girl had betrayed him.
Alone in the flames of his once-mighty home,
The baron stood tall and let rage, for years honed,
Manifest in a cry which could tear down the sky,
And he let the once proud fortress burn.
What’s left of the fortress still stands on the hill,
The treasure sits rotting; charred, black and still.
But the baron remains, alone with his pain,
Face bitter, resentful and cold.